


Will you break me?

by redsnake05



Category: Bandom, The Like
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tennessee can't understand why Z is so distant and uncommunicative. Z finally figures out a way to say what is going on in her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will you break me?

It wasn't that Tennessee was a control freak or anything, but slipping into their seats just as the performance was about to start made her wince at their unpunctuality. Next to her, Z kept her phone in her hand as she settled, the screen glowing bright through the gaps in her fingers. Tennessee elbowed her, hard, before prodding at the hand holding the phone. Z looked at her in confusion.

"Turn it off, oh god," hissed Tennessee. Z shrugged and made a production of turning it on to silent, perhaps her only concession to civility. Tennessee's hand itched to grab the phone and stamp on it, hard. It would be so satisfying to watch the screen crack. Before Tennessee could elbow her again, though, the lights went down and her attention was diverted to the stage. It was bare and perfect, just waiting for the music and movement to make it come alive.

She'd been wanting to see this performance for a long time, had arranged it with Z weeks ago. She'd been careful not to call it a date, or to make too much of it, even when Z hadn't seemed to get the point of it. Once, Z would have known that Tennessee wanted to spend time with her without needing anything said. Not so long ago, Z would have thought an afternoon of modern dance was a good way to spend her time; she would have looked forward to it just as eagerly as Tennessee had. She pushed down her anger at how close Z had come to making them late, having slept in after a party the night before. A party Tennessee hadn't gone to.

Concentrating on the spots of light growing in the middle of the stage, Tennessee ignored Z. The hum of anticipation from the rest of the audience made Tennessee's heart beat a little faster.

Next to her, Z shifted abruptly, high heel slipping from her foot to land with a clunk that made Tennessee frown. Z's muted curses as she scrambled for it made the anger boil up again. On stage, two boxes popped open and the lids clattered to the floor. Z's muffled guffaw still made it to Tennessee's ears. Gritting her teeth, Tennessee watched the stage and ignored Z as much as she could. She immersed herself in the narrative, clutching at the themes the dancers illustrated with the sketched lines of their bodies. Each line flowed into the next, and even the jerky movements were syncopation, emphasising a part of the greater whole. She almost forgot Z next to her, almost managed to block out her impatient fidgeting and clear lack of attention. Breathing deep, Tennessee watched the dancers shape out lost love with the angles and curves of their movements.

Dancing had always been something Tennessee loved. As she gazed at the stage, absorbed in the action, she felt her anger slipping away. She felt calmer as she got caught up in the story on the stage. The lids from the boxes because smaller stages for the dancers to perch on in isolation, or shields for them to hide behind, or doors for them to open together. Entranced, Tennessee's emotions shifted to match the rhythm of the dance.

When the lights went up, Z was on her feet as soon as they brightened. "Thank god that's over," she said. "I need a drink."

Tennessee blinked, rudely jerked out of her absorption in the dance and shift of emotion she'd just seen. Her mouth felt clumsy round the words that formed in her head, so she just looked down at her hands and wondered what had happened to the dream she'd been so sure of. She stood also and gathered her things, letting Z lead the way out of the small theatre and down the street towards a little bar she knew, chattering all the way. She was already texting by the time they were out the door.

Tennessee let her go, walking behind her and replaying the last section of the dance in her head, watching the dancers spiral out further and further from each other, till the inwards force broke with a jerk and they tumbled, separate and drifting like dandelion heads or baby spiders, head over heels into a world unfamiliar. She looked at Z as she sauntered along and wondered if she would snap too, if maybe the tension between the two of them was pulling too tight and too thin.

"Come on," said Z. "We're here."

Tennessee followed her into the little bar. At least it was quiet in here, dim with little pools of light illuminating the small square tables on which people moved their hands restlessly as they talked. As they walked towards the back, Tennessee watched one boy trace his fingers over his companion's palm. The tenderness in the motion made her heart ache. She sat opposite Z at one of the tables and folded her hands on the edge of the polished wood.

"Why did I ask you to come with me?" she asked. Z blinked at her and put her phone down.

"Is this a trick question?" she asked.

"No," said Tennessee. "I think, though, a better one is: why did you agree to come?"

"Because you're my best friend," said Z, picking her phone back up as it vibrated on the tabletop. Tennessee reached out and grabbed it, snatching it out of Z's grasp.

"Give it back," Z said.

"Listen to me," replied Tennessee. "I don't think you've fucking listened to me all day. You've huffed and fucking fidgeted and texted and not even bothered to notice me, except for sighing at me."

"That text," Z began, but Tennessee cut her off.

"It's from Ryan, I suppose. He's coming to meet us."

"Well, yeah," said Z.

"You don't fucking get it," said Tennessee. She dropped the phone back on the table with a clatter and pushed her chair back. She was angry, the blood rushing in her ears and blocking out anything Z might have said to try to persuade her to stay. Not that Z probably said anything. She was probably texting again already, curled up in her chair waiting for Ryan or Alex or someone else. Anyone else who wasn't boring old Tennessee. Tennessee didn't want to wait. She wanted her own momentum to be her guide. She wanted her drumsticks and kit, some quiet and the raw burn of her muscles, not the hot ache of her throat right now.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Tennessee didn't expect to find Z on her doorstep the next day. She'd mostly expected to have to contact her, or maybe just see her at practice. Z looked smaller than usual, standing on the doorstep. For once, her hands were empty, twisted in on themselves with restless fingers. Tennessee stepped aside to let her in without a word, waiting as she slipped off her shoes before leading the way to the kitchen.

Z sat at the table without a word, looking at Tennessee with an expression that she couldn't quite place. Slipping into her chair on the other side, Tennessee fought the urge to fidget, instead, tucking her hands under her thighs and staring back at Z.

"Some days," said Z, "I think you're going to leave me." Tennessee hadn't been expecting that, but Z put up her hand for silence as Tennessee opened her mouth. Subsiding, Tennessee watched as Z ran her finger back and forth along the edge of the table. "I couldn't bear that." She quirked her lips in a sad sort of smile. "So Ryan kicked my ass."

"What?" asked Tennessee. She didn't mean to sound so harsh and disbelieving, and she saw Z wince at her words before she managed to gentle her voice. "Tell me."

"It was stupid," said Z. "I was trying to act like I didn't care so it would hurt less when you left."

"And that made sense to you?"

"Ryan had some things to say about my fucked up thought processes too."

"I'm not fucking interested in Ryan Ross and his proclamations," said Tennessee.

"No," said Z. She laughed a little. "I've been a shitty friend, right?" She looked up at Tennessee, and now Tennessee could see the girl she'd grown up with hiding there, under the bravado and hard edges. Her confidence looked brittle and stretched thin to cover doubts and insecurity. In the past, she'd confessed these quietly to Tennessee in the dark, whispering as if someone might hear her through the locked door.

"You've been a fucking idiot," said Tennessee. Z looked up, surprised, her face stretching into a genuine smile at whatever she read in Tennessee's expression. "The only thing that could make me leave you _is_ you. Don't push me away." Z laughed softly and opened her mouth. Tennessee gestured for silence this time. "And if you compare us to Ryan Ross and his beffie Spencer motherfucking Smith, then the band really will break up. Because I will have killed you."

Z laughed and Tennessee smiled at her. She got up to make tea, not surprised when Z pressed up against her back and looped an arm round her waist. Her bony chin dug into Tennessee's shoulder in a move that was nearly as familiar as breathing.

"Are we good?" Z asked.

"Are you going to be a pretentious hipster douche again?" asked Tennessee.

"I'm going to be _your_ pretentious hipster douche," replied Z.

"Oh, now that's reassuring." Tennessee dropped the teabag into the pot and half turned her head. Z tipped her face to meet her, lips brushing over Tennessee's lightly. It felt like a spark of connection, starting the slow unravel of something stretched to breaking between them. Tennessee could almost feel them moving back into each other.

"I am sorry," said Z. "And I won't forget you or push you away again."

"That must be genuine," declared Tennessee, "because there wasn't a single metaphor in there." She felt Z smile into her neck and dig her fingers into her ribs so that Tennessee giggled and squirmed. She was comfortable under Z's hands, knowing that Z was listening. She knew that Z had heard the subtext and put the meaning together from the arch of her words and the line of her back. They'd be okay, Tennessee could feel it.


End file.
